


Journal Entries

by thescourge



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-02-19 12:23:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 21,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2388125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescourge/pseuds/thescourge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The journal entries of Jack Marston. (An attempt to compile the entire JackMarston tumblr blog into one readable.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Edgar Ross

**Author's Note:**

> As I said in the summary, this is an attempt to compile the plotline of the JackMarston blog on tumblr into a readable story. Hopefully it will work. The entries that you see here have been altered from their original version, because I wrote the originals and I felt like fine tuning.

**1914**

* * *

 

I killed him. I finally killed Edgar Ross.

I sat on the grassy bank of the river. My boots nearly touched the water, which was tinged with pink. He’d fallen in, after I’d shot him. I shot him a lot, and in many places. It hadn’t been hard, but there was a lump in my throat.

I’d killed men before, but I hadn’t known their names. I hadn’t spoken to their families.

Pulling the trigger, that was easy. But what about afterward?

I looked down at him. He was under a few feet of shallow water, and my stomach turned. I knew I was thinking too much about it. I wasn’t going to let myself get worked up over that son of a bitch. I climbed on my horse and went to the nearest town to get as drunk as possible.

When I awoke the next morning, I didn’t remember much. I wasn’t in a bed, instead I was slumped against the side of the building. My neck hurt and my leg was numb. The underside of my nose was caked with dried blood, and my knuckles were also bruised. I guessed that I had gotten in a fight that wasn’t important enough to remember.

I thought to myself, is this who I am? Kill a man, drink until I blackout, wake up dizzy and confused, and then repeat.

Part of me was lost. It was the only thing that could wash away the pain, the regret, the grief… I didn’t do much thinking when I was drunk. Thinking was painful, pain brought weakness, and I couldn’t afford to be weak.

I felt like I was going somewhere I didn’t want to go. Down, down into that deep dark pit and I’d never be able to pull myself up.


	2. Third Time's The Charm

I tried it a few times. I was drunk the first time, but the rest I was sober.

Couldn’t even kill myself proper, because it never worked. Gun wouldn’t shoot, barn was too dry rotted to hang myself, and when I went out into Tall Trees without a weapon on me, the bears weren’t biting for once.

Wasn’t meant to be, I guess. I was meant to rot forever.

I thought, briefly, about getting the police to kill me by stealing something or attacking someone, but I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.

The Marston name would go extinct with me, but not as soon as I liked.


	3. Ghosts

I don't return to Beecher's Hope nowadays. It's not easy for me to be there, not in that empty house.

Sometimes, when I'm there, I think I hear Rufus barking. My Ma humming to herself. Pa tapping his foot against the wood floor as he rests in a chair. Uncle laughing.

I can't be there anymore. They aren't there, and the moments that I think for a moment that they might be... those kill me.

I sleep where I can. Rented beds, or the ground. I don't get the chance to shave, or even bathe, very often. I hunt bounties, and spend the money on food, ammo, and a lot to drink.

I heard a man preaching outside of the saloon, talking about how drinking will send you to hell. I wanted to tell him that it wasn't the drink that damned my soul. I was damned from the moment I was born.

Son of a murderer and a whore. We put on our show, we played house and pretended, but that's all we were. That's all we ever were.

I once dreamed of being a writer, you know. I once dreamed of being someone, and now I'm no one. Now, I'm not a god damned thing.


	4. Women

I like women well enough. The women that work at the saloons however, I'm not sure how to feel about them.

They turn my stomach, but at the same time, I'm tempted.

I think of what my mother would say, my father, of all the terrible things that could happen, and I still wonder.

I always thought those types were old, and ugly, and sour-smelling and sweaty, but that's not true. There are pretty ones, not too much older than me. They want money to eat for the night, and I'm lonely looking. Well, I suppose I am lonely but I'm not sure if it's the type of lonely that sex can cure.

I've never been with a woman, and part of me says that it's cheating. It doesn't count if you paid for it. Another part says, that woman doesn't really want you anyway. It's your money she wants, poor girl. She wants to eat tonight and she'll do what it takes. She might be disgusted by you, she might count the seconds and want it to be over every moment. That's the part that turns my stomach.

One night, a girl looks at me with the most desperate eyes I've ever seen, so I give her all of my money. Every cent I had, and I left thanking god that I hadn't been born a girl.

For a moment I wondered if my mother had been the same, desperate to survive so she stayed with the gang and did what she had to in order to make them want to keep her around. Probably.

The world is cruel to women. My mother always said it, but now I see it.


	5. Cold Breeze

Autumn's come early this year. It's early September, and a brisk breeze every few minutes keeps me from sleeping.

I adjust my tent, and pull a dirty blanket tighter around myself. Somewhere in the distance my horse grunts to itself. The breeze comes again and I pick up and put myself a little closer to the fire. It's only embers at that point, but warmer still.

Beecher's Hope isn't far, and I could go there and sleep by the fireplace if it suited me, but it didn't. My toes curled and uncurled in my shoes, which I kept on my feet to sleep when I was in the wild. I thought about going into town, in Blackwater, and sleeping at the hotel there.

My eyes burned with exhaustion and I wondered if it would be worth it to pick up once again and ride all the way there, but another breeze hit me and I thought it would be best if I got it over with.

My horse didn't much like being bothered in the middle of the night, but didn't fight me too much when I started it at a trot towards the town. My back ached from sleeping on the ground for the past week, and my scalp itched. It had been a while since I'd had a bath, or shaved, or even washed my clothes.

When I finally got into Blackwater I considered, briefly, stopping for a drink. The bartender often stayed late, and he was there, but I thought against it. I didn't want my head to hurt waking up the next day, and I wanted to get a good night's sleep for once.

I went up to the room my father had rented so long ago, lit the fireplace, pulled off the majority of my clothes and crawled into bed.

I woke sometime in the afternoon. The sun was failing to shine through the thick curtains of the room, and I was glad for it. I heard the ruckus downstairs in the bar, and even fainter the town in full swing.

Something inside of me told me not to leave the room, so I didn't. I went through my pack and found some dried meat, and after I ate it I went back to sleep. I had nothing better to do.


	6. The Girl at Manzanita Post

I was taking a quick morning walk to Manzanita Post not too long after Thanksgiving. My legs were sore from sleeping out in the open in the cold weather. My horse walked beside me, content at not being ran that day. A few strangers greeted me as they passed me by and I just nodded back.

When I arrived at Manzanita Post, I considered going to the general store. As I approached, I noticed a woman sweeping the steps. When she saw me, she smiled and greeted me.

"Hello, mister." She brushed her hands off on her skirt. "If you’ve come to buy something, you’ll have to wait a couple of minutes. My uncle has gone to town."

"Alright." I stepped over and sat down on the flat stump nearby. "I can wait. May I ask why your uncle has gone to town? He doesn’t buy his products from Blackwater, does he?"

"No, no." She shook her head and continued sweeping. "He got in a fight with a man who tried to rob us about an hour ago. He broke his arm, but managed to get his gun and take care of the robber."

"Well, I’m glad he took care of it." I replied.

"Yes, sir." She said. She was one of the few people around close to my own age. Her hair was pinned up, but a few curls fell loose over her forehead. Her hair was dark brown like rich soil, and her eyes matched. She wore a dark green dress with a thick coat and an apron over all of that. She looked as if she had been working all morning, but due to the cold it seemed that not a drop of sweat had touched her forehead.  
She finished sweeping and set the broom aside. With a sigh, she sat neatly on the steps and looked at me. To be honest, her cheerfulness made me feel a little uncomfortable.

"May I ask your name, mister?" She folded her hands in her lap and looked at me patiently. "You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to."

"Jack Marston." I had no reason not to tell her.

"Oh, I’ve heard of you." She clapped her hands together. "A woman came through a few days ago saying that you saved her from wolves."

"Yes, well-"

"And a man came a while before that and said you got his wagon back from some robber."

"Well, I-"

"And then another woman came through and said you saved her from getting kidnapped in Thieves’ Landing."

I waited for her to interrupt me again, but she didn’t.  
"Lots of people think of you as a hero, Mister Marston." I didn’t know what to say to that. It struck a chord in me that hadn’t even sounded in a long time. I looked down at my filthy boots.

"I’m no hero, ma’am." I shook my head. "I've done just as many bad deeds as good."

"Aw, I’m sure you’re just being hard on yourself." She stood and set her hand on my shoulder. "My Momma always used to say that the person who judges you the harshest is yourself. Not even God judges us as much as we do to ourselves." I stared at her. "Now, when my Uncle gets back, I’ll treat you to some hot tea. No charge, I promise."

At that, she turned around and went back inside of the general store. Instead of taking her up on that offer, I left. I couldn’t have possibly done that, sitting and talking wasn't something I was used to doing. Still, she left me with something to think about.

I haven’t returned to Manzanita Post since. I don’t know what I would ever say if I saw her again.


	7. Cecily

I’d taken some time to myself to explore up near the mountains, up in the more snowy areas near Tall Trees. Not sure why, probably because it was more isolated than other places, and the animals there held good prices for their pelts. Either way, I was treading around there for a good week before I came to an old abandoned cabin near a steep drop to the water.

So I poked around inside of it a bit, curious as to what was in there. I lit the fireplace and examined the old walls. The windows weren’t broken and the door closed nice and tight, most likely to keep out bears. I found some money and a few bullets, and by the time I was finished satisfying my curiosity, night had fallen, so I decided to take shelter there. Wouldn’t hurt anything, I figured.

I awoke in the morning to sounds of a struggle outside, and I figured my horse hadn’t made friends outside, so I opened the door and glanced out. That girl from before was there, half climbed up the cabin, and kicking at a boar that was huffing at her feet.

"Sir!" She exclaimed when she saw me. "Can you help me get rid of this filthy animal?" She gave the boar another good kick before it tried and failed to gore her leg. I took out my pistol and had to shoot it a few times to get through its thick skin, but I killed it.

"Do you need any help getting down?" I asked her, and she shook her head and jumped off herself.

"I have no idea what I would’ve done had you not been here." She brushed off her skirt and gave a light kick to the dead boar. "Such rude creatures."

"May I ask what you’re doing out here in the wilderness by yourself?" I asked.

"I’ve been collecting Hummingbird Sage out here for a while now." She pointed to a tuft of white grass, barely noticeable above the snow, that grew a few feet away. "It’s a lovely plant. Works wonders for my Uncle’s arthritis if I slip a bit into his coffee each morning."

"Isn’t it dangerous to be out here by yourself?" I couldn’t help but wonder if she even knew that much. "There are not just boars out here, but bears. Bears bigger than I am and a lot meaner too, and not too far from here is a gang hideout."

"You’re out here by yourself too." She pointed out.

"I have a gun, unlike you." I replied. "Actually, I have a lot of guns, and a knife. You just have a bag full of weeds." She reached into her shirt and pulled out a Knuckle Duster Pocket Revolver. I frowned at it. "The only thing that’s good for is blowing up in your hand."

"It’s better than nothing." She shrugged and stuffed the gun back into her shirt before walking over and picking at the Hummingbird Sage as if nothing was wrong.

"You know you could get killed out here, right? Or worse?" I asked her.

"You’re not my Pa, so stop nagging me." She waved her hand at me, then turned over and looked at me. "What right do you have to be so concerned about my safety? I’m sure I can handle myself just fine. So concerned about my health that you don't even know my name, which is Cecily, since you never asked me."

"Well, Cecily, If I hadn’t been here, you would’ve been gored to pieces by that boar." I began to get defensive.

"I can't be having a bodyguard follow me around." She stood and placed her hands on her hips, and suddenly I was reminded strongly of my own mother. "Now, mister, if you’re sooo concerned about my safety, you can help me pick these useless weeds because I’m concerned about my uncle’s health. Then you can be a proper gentleman and escort me back home, and you won’t have to worry about your conscious keeping you awake tonight for leaving a poor defenseless young lady out in the cold.”

I frowned at her and thought for a moment. ”Get in the damn cabin, and I’ll find you plenty of these white flowers.”


	8. Patrick

I visited Cecily at Manzanita Post every now and again. I liked her. She was pretty and I liked what she talked about.

I'd never been any good with girls. As a younger teenager, I was awkward. Most of the girls I'd liked back then were infatuations based on nothing. I'd see a pretty girl in the general store once or twice and fall in love. If I ever saw her again in town my heart would race, and sometimes I'd even say hello.

The only time I ever actually spoke to a girl, made any effort, was when I was seventeen. Her husband came and punched me in the face, breaking my nose and my pride, and after that I kept my eyes down.

I suppose that after two years I didn't learn much of a lesson. I rather liked Cecily, although I got the feeling her Uncle didn't want me around.

She was honest, but shy at times, and kind. She worked hard simply because she wanted to.

Still, I didn't know much about her. I know she lived with her Uncle. Her mother had died when she was born and her father worked from place to place. She didn't know how to read or write, but she knew a little Spanish. More than me, at least.

She didn't ask me many questions. Maybe she saw that I didn't much like talking. I hoped that was so.

One day I built up the courage to tell her that she looked pretty in green. She laughed and said nothing, so I took it as a good sign.

But, as usual, I was a fool. I'd seen him around a few times, although I'd paid no mind to him. He was tall, skinny, and redheaded with a face full of freckles, and his name was Patrick.

She introduced me one day, and it was the way she held his arm that made heat rush to my ears. He was nice, and he shook my hand and told me he'd heard of my father. He even apologized for what had happened to him. I felt even worse.

I'm sure Cecily found me rude when I left shortly afterward, and I'm sure she finds me even ruder now that I've stopped visiting. I tell myself that I don't visit because it's not appropriate, she's supposed to marry Patrick soon and I had no place there. In truth, I'm afraid that seeing her again will bring that wave of humiliation back.

At least it was only my pride broken once again, and this time my nose stayed intact.


	9. Rhodes' Gold

I sat in the shade of the Hanging Rock, puffing on a cigarette and taking a glance at my map.

I didn't much feel like going to Armadillo with empty pockets. Not when I was hungry and thirsty, and had no money to help that.

My feet began to cramp so I stood and walked around a bit. I noticed that if I didn't eat or drink for a while, my hands and feet would hurt like that. My horse stood uneasily nearby, listening for coyotes and other things, before burying her face in a patch of grass.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a strange shape near the rocks. As I looked closer, I noticed it was a pile of rocks seeming to hide something. I kicked a rock off the top and saw that there was a box underneath.

I knelt and pushed the rest of the rocks away, and then opened the lid. To my surprise, inside was a map... and a chunk of gold.

I'd never felt gold before, and as I ran my fingers over it, it had felt almost soft to the touch. Almost as if I could squeeze it and have the sides give way under my hand.

I stuffed it in my pack and jumped on my horse. I could sell it at Armadillo, and then take a stagecoach to Blackwater for a meal, a haircut, and a bath.


	10. Blackwater Station

I was sitting on a bench, waiting for the next train out of Blackwater to Armadillo, while reading a newspaper. Suddenly she was sitting beside me, prodding at my arm.

"You’re Jack Marston, right?"

I nodded and set my newspaper down to look at her. The first thing I noticed about her was what she was wearing. It was a fancy dark pink dress, so dark it was almost red. No women in Blackwater wore red, not even the girls working at the saloon. Yet there she was, her dress that was not _exactly_ red sticking out in Blackwater like a sore thumb.

The second thing I noticed about her was her face. She was very pale in comparison to me, which made me realize just how browned by the sun I was. She had long black hair that curled down her shoulders, and grey eyes that made me feel uncomfortable. She was real pretty, like the women you see in pictures, or the women who live in the city. A face like hers- unscarred, unfreckled, made up to look nice -wasn't something you saw often anywhere in this country.

Suddenly overcome with nervousness, I glanced around. She had to have a husband or father ready to gut me for even looking at her. She laughed and moved closer to me. Her laugh was very clear and loud.

"Tell me, what’s it like being a cowboy?" Her accent was strange. I couldn't place it. "You’re one of the famous cowboys around here, you know. Not as famous as your father or Landon Ricketts, no offense, but still famous. I like your story better. Well, not necessarily _better_ , but-"

"I’m not a cowboy." I told her.

"Of course you are." She laughed again. "You’re a typical lone cowboy."

"I abandoned my ranch. I don’t work on a ranch anymore and I don’t tend to cattle." I shook my head. "I’m none of the things that makes up a cowboy."

She shrugged. “Well, no matter what you think, you are a cowboy.” She glanced around. “So, what are you doing? Going to Armadillo?” I nodded hesitantly. She grinned and moved even closer to me. “You should let me go with you. It would make my mother so mad! I need some excitement in my life, anyway. I’ve never been to Armadillo. Is it nice?”

"I’m not sure you’d like it, miss."

"Oh," She drew her hand back and adjusted her dress. "My name is Pearl Edith Ramsey. My father is Phillip Ramsey, he’s an attorney in town. He says he's going to run for governor in the next election, but even if he does he probably won’t win. He's good at lying, but not that good." She laughed again.

"Uh, well I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. You don’t even know who I am, and I’m sure your father would get me in a lot of trouble of something happened to you." I folded up my newspaper and heard the train approaching.

"Nonsense." She grinned, standing up and stepping on the train as it stopped at the station. "Well, I’m going with you, whether you like it or not. It’s been a long time since I’ve had some real fun." I felt I had no choice but to follow her.

By the end of the night, she had passed out in my bed in the Armadillo Saloon after a long day of gambling with money I didn’t know she had, and winning. I slept in the smaller bed across from her. I didn’t mind, as long as her father doesn’t plan on shooting me or throwing me in jail when she gets home.


	11. Morning in Armadillo

"Wake up." I said as loudly as I could without yelling. The drunken shouts downstairs didn't wake her, so I didn't have much confidence that I could. Still, she flickered her eyes open, before smiling and not moving a single other muscle.

"Good morning, handsome." Pearl stretched her arms and then her legs, and smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress. "I slept well. What about you?"

"I never sleep well." I wasn't in a good mood, and I wasn't up to dealing with her.

"That's too bad. A good night's sleep puts you in the best kind of mood." She sat up. "For example, I'm in _such_ an appreciative mood. You took me to this delightful little town and kept me safe. You made sure no bad men touched me, or took my money, or any other things without asking me politely."

"Are you being sarcastic?" I frowned at her, and she simply smiled back. A lovely disarming smile, to match her cutting one.

"I really am appreciative, Jack." She ran her fingers through her hair. "You're a real gentleman, and that's so rare these days. It really is too bad."

"What's that mean?"

"Well, there are plenty of men who have attempted to court me, and tried to kiss and touch me without my permission. But you, Jack, probably wouldn't kiss or touch me even if I _gave_ you permission."

"You're right."

"Oh come on, Jack. You're hurting my feelings." She came over and sat next to me, and then leaned her head on my shoulder. "I've seen you looking at me."

"You're pretty, but that doesn't mean much to me."

She made a face. "You're strange, Jack." She smoothed down the sleeve of my jacket. "You know, I like you already. You're fun to annoy." _Damn it, god damn it._

"Okay, well, let's take you home." I stood up, causing her to lose her balance and topple dramatically to the floor.

"Oh, but I don't want to go home!" She put her hands over her face. "I'm having a great time here with you!"

I stared at her. "How old are you? You're acting like a child."

"I'm not a child." She sat up, crossing her arms. "I'm seventeen."

"You're acting like a child." I took her hand and hauled her up on her feet. "And I'm taking you home."

"Seriously, now, Jack. It's terrible at home. I have two mothers, _two!_ My mother and her twin sister, to be more specific. I'm my mother's only daughter and her twin never had any children. They never approve of anything I do or say or... just anything! I'm never ladylike enough, I never speak properly, I'm too fat, I'm too skinny!"

"And my father, well, he's not bad. But he's never home at all, and when he is home he's in his office working on whatever it is he works on." She shook her head. "And whenever I say something to him, he just smiles and says ' _whatever you want dear._ ' I could ask him for a three headed elephant and he'd just smile and say ' _whatever you want dear_!'"

"Oh, your life must be a living hell _._ "

"Are _you_ being sarcastic?" She tried to frown but eventually melted into giggles. After a moment she stopped with a hum, and she leaned in close to me. "You're so nice, Jack." She smoothed down the collar of my jacket with one hand, and one of her fingers brushed my neck only firm enough that it didn't tickle. "Have you ever been kissed by a woman before?"

She smelled like lavender and clean powder. She batted her eyelashes and peered up at my eyes in a way that was almost hesitant. I glanced away as sweat coated the back of my neck. My fingers itched, a similar feeling to wanting to grab my gun, but not exactly. Part of me wanted more than anything to shove her and sprint as far away as I could, but her fingers against my neck and the pleasant smell of her locked me in place. Unable to think of the exact words to say, I simply shook my head.

"Really? A tough cowboy like you? You've never been with a working girl, or had some nice lady thank you with a kiss after you rescued her?" I shook my head again. She leaned in close enough to see each of my pores and stared into my eyes despite the fact that I wasn't looking back at her. I could feel her breath on my chin, and she was bold enough to move another finger to rest against my neck. "That's too bad." She pulled away.

The harsh sunlight streamed in, and brought along a headache as well as realization of what just happened. She faced away from me and shook her hair out in the sunlight, combing it with her fingers, while I glared at the back of her head. She turned to me, grinning.

"I'll make you a deal, _cowboy_." She folded her arms across her stomach. "I'll let you take me home if you take me on horse rather than on that train. Trains smell horribly like sulfur and it reminds me of those pits in hell they talk about in church."

"Hate being reminded of your future home?"

"At least you have a reason to be bitter now." She leaned against the door frame. "You wanted a kiss."

" _No_. Just thinking about it makes me sick." I scowled.

" _Love_ sick?" She smirked.

"I'll give you a ride home if you just shut up." She clapped her hands excitedly and bounded out of the room. I trudged behind her. The working women recognized me as a man who always had money in his pocket these days, and immediately began calling.

"I can please you better than she can." One said in a thick accent, tossing a dark braid over her shoulder. "That skinny little thing would break in half like a twig."

"Oh, of course." Pearl turned. "In fact, that happened just last night. In the throws of our passion, he looked down and noticed that I had snapped right in half! This corset is the only thing holding me together." She patted her stomach as if that story were true. The woman made a face of disgust. "Perhaps he'll have better luck with you. What do you think, Jack?"

"I'd rather not." I said, and the woman shrugged and walked back into the saloon.

Pearl trotted down the stairs and quickly found my horse. "Oh, what a lovely stallion!" She exclaimed. "Such a shiny dark coat, but a bit on the thin side." She turned to me. "My father's old mare died recently, and we still have some of her food left. How about a meal for your lovely steed when we get to my home?"

I nodded and pulled myself up into the saddle, and then helped her up behind me. "In fact, if my mothers don't object _too_ strongly, I'll see if you can have dinner with us."

"Sure."

"I _knew_ you wouldn't turn down food." She squeezed her arms tightly around me. "I don't know of a single man who would."

"It's not often I get a warm meal these days, not one that's home cooked at least." I replied honestly.

"That's too bad." She pressed her head to my back as we rode out of Armadillo. "Well, you're welcome in my house anytime, whether my mothers approve or not. You won't starve as long as I'm around, nor will your horse."

And as irritating as she was, that was the kindest gesture I had received in a while.


	12. Unwelcome

I managed to get Pearl back home before dark.

She lived in the better part of Blackwater, which only surprised me a little. I expected her to have money, but I thought mostly politicians, federal agents, and other sorts like that lived over there.

When I told her so, she laughed at me. "My father is an attorney. He knows many of those men. He's even friends with a few, though most don't like him. He's a defense attorney at the moment, which means keeping men out of jail and away from the noose."

"I can't imagine that earns him much respect with the police."

"It doesn't." She agreed. "But it puts money in his pocket and food on the table, although not as much in a town like this."

"Where are you from, anyway?" I dismounted the horse and helped her down as well. "You don't sound like a Texan, and I've never seen you around before."

"Louisiana, the city of New Orleans." She brushed some horse hair from her skirt. "I was born there, and raised there. My father's accent is more interesting than mine, if you get to hear it. He's a special kind of French, the kind you only find in New Orleans. My mother isn't from New Orleans originally. She and my aunt were born on the boat over from... Well, it doesn't matter." She waved her hand dismissively.

"So you came here recently?" I looked back at her house. "It doesn't look like you just moved."

"We moved here a few years ago."

"Why?" I pulled a cigarette from my pocket, and offered her one too. "From what I understand, New Orleans is a big city. Your father would get more business in a place like that."

"He would, and he did." She blew smoke out of the corner of her mouth. "But like you said before, that sort of business doesn't make you friends with the law. The law in New Orleans isn't like the law here, either. You think this is corruption? These fat, puffed up, polished hillbillies strutting around with their shiny badges pinned to their chest? Arrogance, yes. It shouldn't be the way it is here, but New Orleans... It's rotten there. Rotten to the core."

"So you got run out of town?" Her eyes flicked up to me, grey like steel and cutting deep.

"Yeah... we got run out." She turned away and took another drag from her cigarette.

"Pearl?" A woman's voice called, and I turned to see the both of them standing there.

Her mother and aunt, eerily similar in every way. They had thick hair, the color of fresh hay, pulled neatly at the top of their heads. They were tall for women, near as tall as me. They weren't as ugly as I expected, and I wouldn't even call them plain-faced. Perhaps in their youth, they had been beautiful like their daughter, but I didn't see much of her in them. The only thing she got from them was those eyes of hers.

I tipped my hat out of politeness, but then their eyes went to me and I realized that drawing attention to myself was a mistake.

"I should've guessed that you were out with some strange man." One of them said. "Do you not realize how dangerous that is? West Elizabeth is different, Pearl. A man like this." A finger was pointed in my direction. "He could throw you over his shoulder, and carry you off, and we would never see you again."

"That doesn't sound too awful." I heard her say under her breathe.

"Get inside. We need to talk about this."

"Can I at least finish?" She wiggled her cigarette between her fingers. One of them plucked it out of her hand, threw it in the grass, and stepped on it.

"Inside." Pearl's mother said.

Pearl turned to me. "You'll come and visit me, right?" And suddenly there were three pairs of those same eyes on me at once.

"I don't know." I told her. "I don't think I'm welcome."

"You aren't." The aunt snapped.

Pearl ignored her. "You are welcome, because I've invited you, and you accepted. So you must come have dinner with us sometime." Her eyes went to the two women standing beside her. "I'm sure my father would allow it."

"Maybe." I told her. "We'll see."

She was obviously unhappy with that answer, but she didn't say so. Instead she offered me a curt goodbye, and extended her hand. I didn't know what to do with it, and I didn't think you were supposed to shake a woman's hand, so I pretended I didn't see it. She snorted at my ignorance and went inside.

That night, I thought long and hard about what to do. I didn't quite know what to think of Pearl. She was beautiful and interesting, and she made her interest in me very obvious, but I couldn't tell if it was a game. Everything seemed like a game to her. Was I just around to piss off her mother and feed her rebellion? Did she even truly want me around at all?

I honestly didn't know.

 

 


	13. Losing at Gambling

It was close to sunset in Tall Trees. It had been cloudy all day, threatening to rain but never really doing so. The thick wet air of the forest didn't help me from not freezing, either.

I heard an elk in the distance and pulled the repeater from my back. It was a healthy thing, big with thick fur. If I managed to shoot it, I would kill two birds with one stone. I could eat some of the meat, and sell the fur for money to buy a drink.

I hadn't had a drink in ages. The last had been half a mouthful of warm moonshine that had been sitting in my pack all day. My hands were shaky as I held my gun, and I worried that I wouldn't make the shot. I knew that if I missed, he would bolt and be gone before I could blink.

I tried to hold my gun steady but my hands wouldn't stop shaking. It was a mixture of the cold, hunger, and my need for a drink that had gotten my hands to shaking. I took a deep breath and held it, trying to aim steady, but I missed the shot anyway.

The elk ran and I yelled something foul in response. I put my gun away and pulled myself back up on my horse, and started heading away from Tall Trees.

I thought, briefly, about returning to Beecher's Hope. There was no food there, and I doubted I would find anything to drink after the last time I tore the house apart looking for some, but it was familiar. My stomach turned and I regretted even thinking about it.

My only other option was to take up Pearl on her offer from before.

It had been over a week since I'd last seen her, and I hoped she hadn't changed her mind by then, or forgotten.

The sun had only just gone down by the time I reached her house. No one was outside, but I could see the lights on inside filtering past the curtains. I dismounted my horse and realized how unwelcome I still felt. Every fight up to the front door took ridiculous effort, and then I couldn't bring myself to knock.

I felt stupid. I felt stupid for being there, rather than somewhere else. I didn't belong there. I felt stupid for feeling stupid, because there was nothing wrong with coming to a house that I was invited to.

On an impulse, I lifted my hand and knocked. The noise inside of the house stopped for a moment, and then a man answered the door. He was a portly old man with thick black hair and a mustache to match. His eyes were brown, and reminded me of a dog's eyes. I realized that this was Pearl's father, and the parent she looked most like.

"Can I help you?" He asked, and I barely had time to let out an "uh" before Pearl was squeezing past him.

"You're here!" She yanked my arm and pulled me inside. "I thought you weren't going to, and I'd have to give you a piece of my mind the next time I saw you in town."

"Sorry," I told her. "I've been busy."

"It's okay." She waved her hand dismissively. "I hope you don't mind, but we've actually already had dinner. It's still warm, though. I'll make you a plate."

My stomach ached in protest as I argued. "No, no, it's fine. I don't want to be the only one eating."

"Nonsense." She turned for a moment and looked me up and down. "You're so skinny, Jack. How long has it been since you've had a good meal?"

"A while." I admitted. "I'm not a great cook."

I tried not to look at Pearl's mother and aunt as we passed them, but I could feel them staring at me.

Pearl sat me down at the kitchen table before going across the room and piling food high on to a plate. She slid it in front of me along with some silverware and sat across from me.

"Since you don't feel like eating alone, I'll eat with you." She pulled out a peach and a sharp knife. "I stole this from one of the neighbors this morning. Let's see if it's any good."

Once I had finished eating, she took me into the living area where her mother and aunt were at. I sat on an uncomfortable and expensive looking couch next to Pearl, who was leaned back as far she she could go with her legs crossed politely in front of her. They sat on an identical couch across from us, eyeing me critically.

"So, who is winning the staring contest?" Pearl asked, casually rotating her ankle in what was apparently a very irritating fashion for those two. "It looks to me like Aunt Sarah is winning." A moment passed. "How long are you going to do this?"

"Until we figure out what it is about him that prompted you to invite him into our home." Sarah said, her lips curling up as she spoke.

"You're being quite rude, you know. If you don't stop soon, I'll be forced to take Jack somewhere else." Pearl grinned. "Someplace where you can’t stare or make rude remarks to our guest." The twins gaped at her.

"I _will not_ allow that." Her mother hissed.

Pearl threw her head back. "Papa!" Her father entered from the other room, a stack of papers in his hands. "Can Jack and I go to the saloon underneath the Blackwater Hotel?"

"Of course." Her father replied. "Just come home this time, please." He abruptly went back into his office. Pearl smirked at her mothers while they reddened.

"Come on, Jack." Pearl stood and stretched. "You’ve been talking about wanting a drink, now is your chance to get one."

So we walked to the saloon. It was dark outside, and the citizens of Blackwater had retreated back into their homes, so the saloon was mostly empty. I got a drink and then found a table near the corner of the room to sit at while Pearl glanced around.

The men were there playing blackjack, as always, along with the cleaning woman and the bartender. None of them paid any real attention to us, and that didn’t bother Pearl as much as I thought it would. Apparently her constant need for attention was sated as long as at least one person was watching her, and this time it was me.

"Happy now?" She smiled at me as I took a gulp of my drink.

"Not necessarily." I replied after I cleared my throat.

"And what _would_ make you happy?”

"I don’t know."

"How about..." She pursed her lips and tapped her chin. "A kiss?"

"No." I took another mouthful of my drink as she frowned at me.

"Fine, I’ll just wait until you’ve drank a little more." She quirked an eyebrow. " _Then_ you’ll want to kiss me.”

"Being drunk has never made me want to kiss someone." She scowled at this and glanced around.

"I have an idea." She leaned closer to me, her eyes bright with mischief. "If I beat you in one round of blackjack, I get a kiss."

"And what if I beat you?"

She grabbed my arm and whispered “ _I’ll let you take my dress off_.” I felt my ears heat up and I pushed her arm away.

"You’d like that more than I would." I frowned. "If I win, you have to stop saying things like that to me for a whole week."

“ _Ooh,_ interesting.” She tapped her fingers on the table for a second. “Okay, deal.” She went over to the blackjack dealer and took a few cards from his deck, seeing as the blackjack table was full and we didn’t want to disturb the other players. She let me shuffle them and set them out so I couldn’t accuse her of cheating, which I would have. I lifted my cards and she lifted hers. I had seventeen.

"What do you have, Jack?" She asked, and then bit down on her lower lip in excitement.

"Seventeen." I set the cards down. "A fair number."

"Oh, dear." She frowned. "Looks like I have twenty. So much for my attempts to make you happy."

“ _Damn it_.” The thought of kissing her filled me up with enough anxiety to make me feel ill. I took my time handing the cards back to the blackjack dealer, and finishing my drink while she stared at me with a smug look on her face.

"Don’t worry, Jack." She told me. "I know what I’m doing. I’ve kissed a man before."

“Yes, that makes me feel so much better.”

"What's gotten you so embarrassed?"

"What if someone sees?" I looked around. "It's... I don't want to do this where people can watch."

"What, do you think they'll talk?" She asked. "Because you're right, they would. People already talk about me, and they talk even more about you."

I was silent for a moment. "People talk about you?"

"You haven't heard the rumors about the Ramsey's whore daughter?" She shrugged. "You know, the one who sleeps with a different man each week and practices witchcraft in her spare time."

"There isn't any..." She gave me a blank stare. "Well, that isn't true, right?"

"I'm not a witch, and I don't sleep with a different man each week." She made a face. "As for whether or not I'm a whore, well, that's a matter of opinion. But please, do tell me if you decide that you think I'm a whore."

I felt sorry for asking.

"I still want my kiss, though." She brightened up again. "So I'll make you an additional offer. You can kiss me here, and I'll accept a little peck on the lips... but if you take me somewhere more private, I'll want a better kiss than that."

"Damn it, Pearl." I hissed. "I don't... I haven't..."

"Think of it as a learning experience." She offered. "Besides, I don't judge."

I glanced around the room again, and my eyes lingered on the men at the Blackjack table. I knew how much they loved to gossip.

"Fine." I told her. "I've got a hotel room upstairs and-"

"You're taking me to _your hotel room_ for this?" Her eyebrows shot up. "I thought you were just going to take me to a dark corner of some alleyway."

"You'd prefer an alleyway?" I scratched the back of my head.

To my shock, her cheeks reddened. "I _don't_ mind, but your hotel room, Jack? Think of the implications. I thought you were worried about what people would say."

"I know, but the room has a fireplace, and no one will see anything. It's freezing outside, and if we went into an alley someone could still happen by."

"Okay, well, take us to your room then." She stood, and I polished of my drink before standing with her.

Once we were in the room, I went over to the fireplace to poke the embers back to life. Pearl stood not too far away.

"In truth, I didn't expect such boldness from you, Jack." She told me. I hadn't expected such boldness from myself either, but I really didn't want anyone to see this, especially if it didn't go well.

"So," I said. "Should we sit down or keep standing or...?"

"It would be better to stand, I think." She told me, stepping up close to me. "Sitting would make things more awkward right now."

I looked at her for a moment. In all honesty, I wasn't entirely opposed to the idea of kissing her. The light from the fire flickered orange off of her face, and the red paint on her lips had worn halfway off. Her eyes weren't even cutting, though they still gave me the impression that she could see everything I was thinking or feeling.

Suddenly she was giggling, and that helped break through the tension a bit. "Let me help you." She grabbed my arms and arranged them, curling one around the top of her back and the other a little lower. "And then my arms go here." She put one hand on my chest and the other on my neck. "Seem familiar?" I hoped she couldn't feel me sweating.

"Now remember, when you kiss me, you should close your eyes. Staring is strange." She tilted her head up expectantly. "Take your time."

"You want me to start?"

She was giggling again. "Would you prefer that I kissed you, Jack?" When I couldn't come up with an answer, she pulled my face down to her level. "I'll start slow."

She did as she said, and I only barely felt her lips on mine at first before she pressed only a tad firmer. I forgot to close my eyes like she told me, until I saw that hers were closed and I followed suit. Other than that, I was frozen in place. I didn't know if I should move, and if I should, how? I had to bend over a bit to even reach her, and that made things strange as well. I also noticed that she was kissing the bottom of my mouth, and I wondered if that was because I hadn't bend over far enough for her to reach properly.

Then her fingers moved against my neck, and she moved her lips slowly like she promised. I tried to imitate her but I worried that my lips were too dry, or that I would do it wrong. It was pleasant, but not what I'd expected it to feel like. Then she tilted her head a little more and pushed firmer into the kiss, moving her lips faster for only a second before pulling back to see my reaction.

"So, how was it?"

"It was... weird." I answered honestly.

"Let's try again, then. Try doing what I do." And she pulled me back for another kiss before I could say anything. She continued right where she left off, and I felt my hands sweating against her dress. I did as she said and tried doing whatever it was that she was doing. I felt her nose brush against mine and heard her hum out a little laugh. Then suddenly I tasted her lipstick in my mouth and I pulled away.

"You said one kiss." I told her.

She shrugged. "You can take it back if you'd like. Anyway, that's not important." She removed her arms from around my neck. "What did you think?"

"I thought it was awkward and weird."

She grimaced. "It was awkward and weird, but you're learning. It was alright for your first go." She winked. "We'll just have to practice some more."

I snorted. "Yeah, well, I have to get you home before your father gets mad at you."

She sighed. "Okay. I suppose we've had our fun."

"Yeah, yeah. Just go." I ushered her out of the room, and then realized that unfortunately I'd never be able to go into that hotel room again without thinking of that moment.

 

 

 


	14. Bounty

Friendship has never been a familiar thing to me. I didn't have truly have friends as a child, not ones outside of the books I read, anyway.

So I honestly didn’t know how to react to my friendship with Pearl.

I had always thought that you were friends with people you had a lot in common with, and I had very little in common with Pearl. As time went on, I found that to be a relief, as Pearl loves to talk. I would rather her chatter on for hours about something that I don’t know anything about, than something I already know about.

Pearl was also interested in spending a lot of time with me. Whenever she was bored, she sought me out. She was quick witted enough to know where to find me, and didn’t seem to have to look for long.

This got me to wondering if, like me, Pearl had no friends of her own. When I asked her about it, she got very defensive, and insisted that she did have other friends besides me. I have yet to meet them, but I won’t bring it up again.

One afternoon she accompanied me to the train station in Blackwater to look at wanted posters for a bounty. There were a number of them, some pinned on top of others. She shuffled through the older ones with a petulant look on her face.

“If the police want these men caught so badly, why don’t they just go after them? Why put up posters at all?” She asked.

“Probably because it’s easier to let bounty hunters take the risk than risk having their own men killed or injured.” I told her. “It’s easier for them to let me die than to let one of their own die.”

“That’s selfish. They are supposed to be the ones protecting the people.” She looked up at me. “Maybe you should be a lawman, Jack.”

I made a face. “I’d rather not.”

“I know, but you’d be a good one.” She said. “You’d even get a nice shiny badge.”

“Yeah, let me trade in my honor for a badge.”

“Some would say you would get more honor with the badge.”

I gave it a moment of thought. “Maybe somewhere else, but not here. I wouldn’t be a policeman.”

“What’s keeping you here, if you hate it so much?” She asked.

“I grew up here.” I shrugged. “My father’s ranch is here. It’s what I’m used to. You haven’t spent a lot of time in New Austin. It’s different there.”

“Different how?”

“It can go on for miles and not have a single other soul around. It’s so quiet and isolated. Sometimes I would forget that I’m not dead.” I looked away. “You found anything yet?”

“There’s a boy no older than fourteen, wanted for petty theft.” She held up the poster.

“I’m not interested in hunting down children.” I told her.

“Good, that was a test.” She crumped up the paper and threw it outside. “Let’s see…”

“Ralph Stricker.” She read over the paper. “Four hundred dollars if you don’t kill him. He’s handsome too.”

I plucked the paper from her hands. “I’m sure you two would get along.”

She grinned. “Maybe.” She walked alongside me as we exited the train station and I whistled for my horse. “Can I come with you?”

I was surprised she even asked. “No. Look, these men don’t take kindly to bounty hunters. Bullets are flying, people are dying… It’s no place for a lady.”

She glared at me. “I can take care of myself, Jack.”

“I don’t want you getting shot.” I told her. “I’m definitely going to get shot at least once, but I doubt it will be anything fatal.”

“You think I can’t handle a gunshot wound?”

“The problem isn’t whether or not you can handle it; the problem is that it doesn’t need to happen.” I sighed. “It’s not your responsibility, Pearl.”

“But it is _your_ responsibility?” She laughed. “You _should_ be a lawman!”

I climbed on to my horse. “I’m assuming you can get home fine, since you can take care of yourself?”

“I’ve been walking since I was a toddler, and I’m quite sure I know the way.” She put her hands on her hips. “Don’t go dying, now.”

I tipped my hat to her and rode out of Blackwater.

According to the wanted poster, he was hiding somewhere around Aurora Basin, which was excellent since I hated the cold and couldn’t swim. I also wasn’t very fond of bears and wolves, which were in abundance in that area. Luckily, I didn’t encounter many that day as I rode out there.

The bounty went as they usually did. I killed most of the criminals quicker than they could aim at me, although a few of them gave me trouble. I took a bullet in the shoulder and one clipped the top of my ear. My frustration fueled me enough to kill the two of them, and hogtie Ralph Stricker before sticking him on the back of my horse. My shoulder protested as I climbed onto my horse, and Stricker protested too.

“Fuck you!” Stricker made a sound like he was failing to spit in my direction. “Untie these ropes and fight me like a man!”

“We already fought.” I told him as I kicked my horse into a run. “And you lost.”

I had to shoot some more of his friends on the way back to Blackwater, but it seemed like they were incapable of shooting straight while riding a horse.

When I collected my four hundred dollars, I considered getting Pearl but decided against it. I knew she’d be upset, but my shoulder ached and I didn’t feel like dealing with her at that moment.

I made sure to get thoroughly drunk before I went to the doctor to get my wounds treated, which helped when he had to dig into my shoulder to get the bullet out. I paid him, and found the bed in my hotel room to sleep for the night even though it was barely sunset.

 


	15. Flat Iron Lake

"Get up, Jack." I was smacked with something, I couldn’t tell what. "Get  _up_.” I opened my eyes to see Pearl coming into vision in the blurry lamplight. She grinned and grabbed my arm, trying to pull me up out of the bed.

“Ugh, you smell terrible.” She waved her hand in front of her face. “You smell like garbage and whiskey.”

"What the hell are you doing here?" I pushed her hand away, and glanced over to the windows. "It’s not even daylight yet. Are you insane?"

"I want to show you something, so get up." She tossed the blankets off of me, and then immediately tossed them back on. "Sorry, I didn’t realize you were in your underclothes."

"I’m sorry I’m not appropriately dressed for you to sneak into my room in the middle of the night and try to wake me up." I rubbed my face. "Go home and let me be."

"No, come on. Please." She begged. "It won’t take long, and I promise you can go right back to bed afterwards." I stared at her for a moment and then sighed.

"Fine. Go downstairs and wait for me while I get dressed." She clapped excitedly and headed downstairs. I pulled on the simplest clothes I could and went down to find her. She sat on a barstool, swinging her legs impatiently. She was as underdressed as I was. She seemed to be wearing a nightgown with a thin dress over it, with a coat wrapped around her and her shoes pulled on without stockings.

"Admiring my wardrobe choice? It’s not even daylight, like you said. I didn’t have time to get fully dressed, and no one will see me anyhow.” She hopped down from the barstool and grabbed my arm, pulling me out of the saloon and into the street. "Hurry up, or we’ll miss it." The next thing I knew she was dragging me across the dock. She shooed a seagull off of the railing before leaning against it. "Look Jack, look."

"You dragged me out of my bed and across town to watch the sun rise?” I asked her, staring out at the foggy sun rising over the murky water. “What… why?”

She glanced up at me. "It’s nicer to enjoy these things with other people. Standing out here alone would’ve been one thing, but standing out here with you is entirely different."

I was silent, unsure of what to say.

"You don’t have to say anything." She turned back towards the water. "The fact that you’re here is enough."

“You didn’t give me much of a choice in the matter.”

“Are you not enjoying yourself, then?” She asked. “Am I torturing you with the sunset? Are you too manly for this kind of thing?”

“No, nothing like that.” I leaned on the railing and rubbed my eyes. “I just- I don’t understand you.”

She shrugged. “People aren’t something that can be figured out so fast.” She looked up at me again. “Jack, what is this?” She reached up and pushed my hair away from my head and I hissed in pain.

“Damn it, don’t do that.” I swatted her hand away.

“What happened to your ear?”

“Bounty hunting yesterday, got shot twice.” I told her. “This too.” I pulled my shirt back a bit to show her the bandages on my shoulder.

She made a disgusted face and turned away. “Why you would do something so stupid for four hundred dollars, I’ll never know.”

“I need to eat, Pearl.” I told her. “And get new shoes soon, probably.”

“I told you that if you’re hungry, you can always come to dinner at my house.” She insisted. “Not just dinner, either. My brothers are gone, you can eat whatever they would’ve eaten if they still lived with us.”

“I’m not taking advantage of your family like that.” I shook my head. “Your father works hard for his money, I’m not about to do that.”

“So you’d rather starve, or get shot bounty hunting?”

I scoffed. “I can handle a gunshot wound. It’s not my first.”

She prodded the wound on my shoulder, just hard enough to hurt. “And what about when their aim gets a little better, huh?” She moved her hand over. “And they get you here. You know what’s under here? Your lung. A bullet in there means you drown on your own blood.” She moved her hand only a little more. “And here, your heart. A bullet in that will kill you.” She shook her head. “You’re going to get yourself killed like this, Jack Marston. You’re stubborn, and worse than that, you’re a reckless idiot.”

I shoved her hand away from me. “What do you care, anyhow? I’m going back to bed. Enjoy your stupid sunrise. It happens every damn day.”

The walk was colder on my way back to the hotel room, and even when I crawled back into my bed, it took a while to get warm again.


	16. Once More

She approached the dock in her dress and coat just like last time.

"You know, I wasn’t going to wake you up this time." Pearl folded her jacket tighter around her. I glanced up at her and noticed, for once, she wasn’t smiling. She wore a solemn look. I flicked the ashes off of the end of my cigarette and sat on a nearby bench. I could feel the cold dampness of the wood through my pants.

"Why not?" I asked her. She sat next to me, tucking her skirt tightly beneath her legs.

"You didn’t want to be here yesterday, and you were tired and injured." She replied. "I woke you, and you needed to rest."

"I’m always tired." I took another drag from my cigarette, and the silence lingered for a long minute. "I want to be here."

"Truly?" She didn’t look at me.

I grimaced. “I never was one for watching sunrises but…” I gave a little shrug. “It’s not so bad when you aren’t by yourself.”

“That’s…” She looked down at her fingers. “That means a lot to me, Jack.”

"I know it does. Why else would I be here?" I threw the remaining inch of my cigarette in the water. We sat in silence until the sun had finished rising over the foggy lake. The seagulls were cawing loudly and the water was sloshing noisily on the shore. Blackwater was starting to come to life somewhere, out behind us. Then I felt her fingers slide over and lock around mine. Her hands were as cold as ice, but I didn’t move away.

"Jack?"

“Yeah?” I glanced over at her.

"I’m glad I met you." She started smiling again, and for a little while, everything was just fine.


	17. A Memory

Today is a slow day, and like many days I often find myself lost in things that happened before. I recalled a time when I was younger. I was sixteen years old, nearly seventeen, and less of a child than I’d been only a month earlier.

It hadn’t been long after my Pa died, and I saw a man approaching the ranch. He wore a long duster coat and his cowboy hat hid his face. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of him, but I didn’t trust him. I didn’t trust any strangers then.

He approached the house and glanced around outside. That’s when I snuck up behind him and pressed the end of my rifle to his head.

"What do you want?" I asked him. He didn’t tense up, or even seem all that concerned. He turned towards me and I kept the gun pointed at his face.

"If you think you could kill me with such a poor grip on his gun," In a flash, he grabbed it out of my hands and hit me with it. I fell over, clutching the side of my head. "You’re sorely mistaken." The man continued to glance around. He was old, with long grey hair and a long grey mustache to match.

"What are you doing here?" I asked again, trying to calm the throbbing above my ear.

"I came to see if the rumors were true." He replied. "And I guess they are. John Marston is dead. I’m assuming you’re his son? He mentioned you once or twice." I nodded and he offered me a hand to help me up. I shoved it away and stood on my own.

"You’re almost as sloppy with a gun as your father was… At least, before he met me." He grinned.

"If you’re here to insult me and my dead father, you may as well leave now." I pushed past him and made to go into the house, but he stopped me.

"I’m not here to be rude. I came to offer my condolences."

"Condolences don’t help me much." I frowned. "Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do."

"Don’t you have ranch hands for that?" He crossed his arms and looked around.

"No." I tried to keep my shoulders from slumping. "It’s just me now."

"Where’s your mother?" He asked. As if she’d heard, her loud coughing could be heard from outside of the house.

"She’s having a tough time." I told him. "She doesn’t need to be burdened with ranch work." The man shook his head and sighed.

"Look, kid. You seem to be in a really tough situation right now." He said. "I can help you-"

"I don’t need your help." I interrupted. "I don’t need anyone’s help. I’ll do what I have to do to keep food on the table and to help my mother. That’s all I need."

"You’re being too proud, kid." His lips tightened. "It’s gonna get you in a lot of trouble."

"Fuck you." At that, he laughed. He shook his head and looked around the ranch one last time.

"Okay, kid. I get it." He put his hands up. "I wish you the best of luck in whatever it is you’re trying to do. Sometimes, we just need to figure things out by ourselves. I get that." He patted me on the shoulder and I pulled away. "You’re a lot like your father." And at that, he walked away.

It was only later that I figured out who he was, and I felt the fool for a while. He died even before my mother did. After I heard about that, I figured it was good that I never accepted his help, or else he would’ve died on me too. Just like everyone else.


	18. Snow

"What’s the matter with you?" I asked Pearl. "Grumpy for once?"

She fanned herself and frowned. “It’s so hot outside today. I hate the heat.”

"Really?" I leaned back against the tree. "I don’t think it’s so bad. Besides, if it was so hot outside to you, than why did you want to come out in the first place?"

We sat out by the broken tree. I sat at the base of the tree, while Pearl sat on a scratchy blanket to save her dress from grass stains. She had called it something of a picnic, and I agreed out of hunger and a want to be out of her house. She had brought along apples and peaches, and then ended up eating the majority herself.

At some point, she pulled out a thin paper fan and began fanning herself with it. “I must look so flushed, and I hate sweating.” She complained, and shifted her feet under herself. “And I wanted to come because, despite the heat, it’s a lovely day. It would be a waste to spend it inside."

"We could go up, if that would please you better." I suggested, nodding my head towards the mountains.

"Is it cooler?" She asked, setting her fan down in her lap and looking in the same direction.

"If we go close enough, we’ll find snow." I told her.

She stood and brushed her dress down. "That sounds delightful, Jack. What an excellent idea."

So we walked. I suggested we take the path that avoided Beecher’s Hope, and she didn’t argue. I slowed down my usual fast stride to match up with her dainty dress-constricted steps. She chatted on about nothing in particular on the way, but fell into silence when we entered Tall Trees.

The sounds of the forest surrounded us. The birds were chirping, the other animals grunting and chattering in the distance, but mostly there was the comforting sound of the leaves in the wind.

"It sounds like the ocean, almost." Pearl said, gripping my forearm. "Isn’t it strange how all the beautiful sounds and sights in our world all have a sort of similarity to them? Almost like siblings, as if they are the children of nature and time."

"That’s quite a romantic spin to put on it. You’d make quite the poet.” I told her. She smiled and thanked me. We continued on our walk in silence until we reached the fine line of snow on the ground.

“Amazing!” She exclaimed, stepping forward until her boots crunched on the snow.

“Keep going in that direction and it will only get thicker.” She did as I said and ran forward excitedly, until she was out of breath and ankle deep in snow.

"You were right, Jack." She turned towards me, beaming. "And it feels so much better than that terrible heat down in the Great Plains."

"I told you so." I pulled my gloves out of my pocket and offered them to her. She declined so I put them on myself. She walked around stiffly, kicking up a few mounds of snow and examining it.

"You know, it never snowed in New Orleans." She said. "It got very cold sometimes, and very _very_ rainy, but it never snowed. I didn’t expect to ever see snow in Texas, either. I heard it was all desert."

"Some of it is." I replied. "But you’d find the desert at night is colder than sleeping soaking wet at the top of these mountains."

"Really?" She frowned and glanced around. "We didn’t have bears in New Orleans either. There were really big rats, but no bears."

"I wouldn’t expect a port city like New Orleans to have bears anyway." I took a cigarette out of my pocket and lit it. "Was it a really big city there?" She didn’t answer, but instead pointed into the distance.

"Look! There are little ones there too!" She gave a little sound of delight. "How cute. I bet their fur sure is thick." Suddenly I stepped forward and saw a massive bear standing downhill, followed by three nicely sized cubs.

"Oh shit." I pulled out my revolver and glanced over at Pearl. Seeing my reaction, she was suddenly terrified. The bear grunted at us, and I tried to urge Pearl to back away but she was frozen.

It grunted again, and then roared loudly. I flinched, remembering what it felt like to have those claws and teeth digging into my shoulders and back, and the bear charged. In my panic, my shots became sloppy. By the time the bear was a few feet away, my gun clicked and refused to shoot. I pushed Pearl out of the way and managed to move just enough to avoid having a bite taken out of me.

I didn’t waste time reloading and pulled the repeater from my back. I managed to get enough focus to aim two good shots to its head, and the huge beast fell over with a loud wheezing grunt. I turned around to see the cubs had fled.

Pearl stood on shaking legs, paler than usual and obviously nauseated. I grabbed her by her shoulders to steady her.

"Did that really just happen?" She asked.

"Well, if it didn’t, you and I sure are crazy." She looked downhill.

"What about the cubs? How will they survive without their mother?"

"They’ll be fine, they looked big enough to survive. Besides, you shouldn’t be worrying about that. If I hadn’t killed their mother, we would both be mauled to death by now." She didn’t say anything, just kept that same look on her face. I tried to hug her to comfort her, but she stayed stiff and confused.

I let her go and she hesitantly stepped over to the dead bear. Blood ran from its head and neck, but it wasn’t a particularly gory sight. The shots were clean. She knelt in the snow and pressed her hands into the fur of its side.

"I understand what had to happen, but I can’t help but feel bad for her." She said finally. "She was just trying to protect her babies." She was silent for a moment, running her hands through the bear’s fur as if she were trying to comfort it. "Should we bury her?"

"I don’t think that’s a good idea." I stepped forward and offered my hand to her. Reluctantly, she pulled her hands from the bear’s fur and took mine so I could help her to her feet. "I’ll tell you what, I’ll skin it so we can at least put its pelt to good use, and we can leave the meat behind for any hungry animals that happen upon it."

"I guess that’s better than just leaving her here to rot." She looked up at me as if just noticing I was there. "You’re so brave, Jack. You killed a bear all by yourself, and you saved the both of us." She took my hands and gripped them tight. "Thank you."

I had already skinned the bear and we were selling its pelt at the General Store in Blackwater when Pearl mentioned to me how she would love to see the snow again another day. I didn’t reply, but I know I’m not taking her anywhere near bears again for quite some time.

 


	19. Jack, not John

I’m not sure why I thought that was a good idea. Well, not necessarily a good idea, but not a bad one. It seems I continue to make both stupid and bad choices despite the fact that I thought I was through being a teenager.

I needed a new horse, and, as always, Pearl wanted to come with me. I could’ve shown my horse deed at Blackwater’s General Store or even Thieves’ Landing, but I knew if I did that I’d end up with some half-starved old nag that would end up being more trouble than it’s worth. There were only two good places to get horses in the entire county, and that was either Armadillo or MacFarlane’s Ranch. Being the idiot I am, I chose the one closer to home.

So I took Pearl into the General Store, and while she was having a look around, I showed the man at the counter my horse deed and paid a small fee to get my new horse. The man pulled out a small book, scribbled something into it, and shouted at a farm hand to fetch the horse for me. Pearl had run over to show me some postcards she’d found when the bell on the door rang and I heard a loud gasp from behind me.

"John Marston? Is that you?"

Pearl turned around before I did, but that’s because I recognized the voice. There stood the owner of the ranch, Bonnie MacFarlane. To say she had aged gracefully would be polite, but still a lie. She had the same face, although more aged than when I’d last seen her. A few wiry grey hairs fell unevenly around her hairline, but she was still blonde.

She was smiling when I turned, but her smile dropped when she got a good look at me.

"Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else." She was trying to conceal her disappointment.

"But John Marston is your name, isn’t it?" Pearl asked me with a squeeze of my elbow. "Just people call you Jack instead." I glared at her and she shut her mouth.

"Jack?" Bonnie looked down as if she were thinking, and then back up at my face. "I remember you. You’re John’s boy, you came to the farm once. My, have you grown."

"That tends to happen as years go by."

"How’s the ranch going?" She asked. I was extremely uncomfortable, and the silence that followed only heightened that.

"Uh, not well." I replied. "In fact, it’s not going at all."

"Well, why not?" She was trying to be playful, but it wasn’t helping. "What happened to all those cattle I gave your father? Did they just up and run away?" I didn’t say anything, just shuffled uncomfortably in place. "I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you a few new cattle for free. I’ll even help you herd them over, and I can say hi to your mother while we’re at it."

"I don’t think that’s necessary, ma’am." I ground my teeth together, trying so hard to be polite. "I’m not really living at Beecher’s Hope anymore."

"What? So your mother is living all by herself?"

"My mother isn’t living anywhere, ma’am."

"I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

"My mother isn’t living, ma’am." I replied. Bonnie gasped and looked away. I grimaced and turned to Pearl. "How about you go outside and see that horse for me?" Pearl nodded and nearly sprinted out of the door, ready to get away from an uncomfortable situation.

"I’m sorry, Jack." Bonnie said. "I didn’t know. I mean, I knew about your father but-"

"I think I should go." I went to walk past her but she blocked the door.

"Listen, I’m sorry, I’ve been really inconsiderate. At least come in for some tea, your friend can come too. It’s the least I can do for the son of one of my greatest friends."

"Thank you, ma’am, but I don’t think that’s a good idea." I awkwardly squeezed out of the door. "I need to get Pearl home before her parents get worried." That was a lie, but I needed any excuse to get out of there. I found Pearl already on the horse, having gotten a farm hand to help her on. I climbed into the saddle in front of her and sped out of there as fast as I could.

 


	20. Only the Fun Kind

I awoke with Pearl in my room again. Only she was quiet this time. I wasn’t used to sleeping around others, and simply the fact that someone else was there had awoken me.

She had pushed back the curtains and was gazing out of the window; her violin case was tucked neatly under her arm. I cleared my throat and she turned towards me.

"Oh, I’m sorry." She blinked sheepishly at me. "I didn’t mean to wake you, honestly.  I just needed to get away and I didn’t know where else to go."

I sat up to look at her. "I didn’t see you after you went to church yesterday."

"My mother and aunt wanted to have a very serious discussion with me yesterday." Her lips pulled tight over her teeth. I had never seen her so upset. " _Serious_ , indeed. It’s obvious that I dislike their ideas of _what_ and _who_ are best for me, and my father doesn’t care much for it either but he’s too busy to defend me most of the time."

I groaned, wiping my face with one hand. “What did they have to say about me now?”

"It wasn’t very much about you, to be completely honest. Of course, they did say things about you, but mostly it was about my harlot ways." She sighed. "How I am unappreciative and disobedient. I go out by myself, I talk to people without being formally introduced. I think it’s all ridiculous. It’s not that they think you’re a bad person, Jack, it’s that they are elitists. They say you aren’t of the same _class_ as we are."

She scoffed. “I don’t even understand what that means anymore. We aren’t really wealthy people. The only way I know to describe our social class is saying we are financially secure. They think so highly of themselves.” She paused. “Anyway, they wanted me to meet some man they thought it would be in my best interest to consider a courtship with. He was an older man who had been married before but lost his wife, and he already had a child. I have no interest in that.”

"Don’t get me wrong, Jack. It isn’t like I have suitors who come calling every day. I told you about my sour reputation, but there are a few who show up." Her face twisted in disgust. "They are all the same, Pig-headed men that hear about me and they see me as some sort of challenge or even an animal. A horse they can tame, or a knot that’s difficult to untie. They aren’t interested in anything but controlling me. They want to control what I do, what I say, who I speak to, what I think and feel. It’s suffocating and I hate it."

"Well, what are you going to do about it, then?"

"I know very well how to deal with these things. I chase them away with bad manners and language. It sends them running."

"But your mothers always find new ones?"

"Usually, yes, but now my mothers are threatening to send me away to my Grandmother’s house back in New Orleans so I can learn how to be an honest Christian girl and marry a suitable husband. That’s not going to happen. I don’t want to leave, and I’m not going to."

"But I thought you did want to get married someday?"

She laughed and set her violin on the couch. “You really are stupid sometimes, Jack.”

"Wait, hold on." I realized what she was doing and stood, grabbing the violin and setting it back in her hands. "You’ve run away, and you want to stay here."

"I never said that."

"You didn’t have to say it, stupid, you brought your violin." I tapped on the side of the case. "You know that I know that this is the only object on earth that you really give a shit about."

"Well, so what if I do want to stay here?" She set the violin back down. "Are you going to tell me no?"

I gave the violin back to her again. “Yes, I’m going to tell you no. I mean, _no_ , you can’t stay here.”

She snatched the violin and stared up at me in disdain. “And why can’t I?”

"Because your mother will probably run to the police and say I kidnapped you, and did all sorts of bad things to you.” I crossed my arms. “And they would hang me for it.”

"They wouldn’t go that far. Anyway, we could go someplace else, where they won’t find us, and when I’m ready to go back and confront them you can take me back." She grinned. "We can even take a wagon so no one sees us leaving town on your horse."

"Oh my god," I groaned to myself, realizing she would keep coming up with compromises until I finally agreed. "You’re nothing but trouble."

"Only the fun kind." She laughed. "Now get dressed and let’s go someplace interesting."


	21. An Unlikely Friendship

It quickly became clear to me how Pearl thought of it all as some romantic adventure. She clung to my back as we rode out of West Elizabeth, and I tried to think of someplace to go that wouldn’t be an incredible amount of trouble.

Eventually I settled on Casa Madrugada. It was safer than Thieves Landing, not as close to West Elizabeth, and any rumors spread around there weren’t likely to make it back to the US anytime soon.

Pearl was captivated by the scenery as we road across Butter Bridge and down to Casa Madrugada. When we got there, she was only as cheerful and excited as usual. I knew she was aware of the fact that the place was a giant brothel, but she made no mention of it.

The day hadn’t even ended yet, and Pearl had quickly become quite popular among the few English speaking residents of Casa Madrugada. She learned all of their names and chatted with them as if she had known them for years. Even the working women there took a liking to her. Knowing that she was a smart girl, and that she seemed to be well liked in the town, I left her to making new friends and went to the saloon for a drink. She knew where my room was, and I was confident that she would be there when I returned at night.

So, when I went up to the room once it was getting dark, she was there. She lay on her side, petting a large hen that was lying beside her.

"Look what I’ve got, Jack." She sat up and held the chicken up for me to see. "Isn’t she the loveliest hen you’ve seen?"

I wondered at how much I’d had to drink. "Why on earth do you have a chicken, Pearl?"

"Ramona gave it to me. She said some man tried to pay her with it." She ran her hand across the chicken’s back. "No one wanted the poor thing, so I took her. She’s so soft and warm, and she’s so quiet and well behaved."

"It’ll be pecking you awake by morning." I warned her.

"She hasn’t pecked or scratched me once." Pearl frowned. "And she cleared all the bugs out of this room, so she won’t be hungry for a while."

"That’s comforting." I sat on the edge of the bed next to her. "Well, it’s your responsibility now. Just don’t let it sleep in the bed with you. It’s a chicken, not a dog or a cat." So Pearl hopped up and pulled her coat and violin case off of the table. She took her violin out of the case, set it on the table, and folded her coat inside of the case.

"What are you doing now?" I asked her.

"I’m making a bed for her." Pearl said. "She could get cold, and I want her to be comfortable."

"It’s just a damn chicken." I told her. "It doesn’t need a bed."

"Well, I’d still like to give her one." Pearl picked up the chicken and set it down in the violin case, where it promptly sat and adjusted itself. "Where are you going to sleep?"

"I’ll probably sleep in that chair." I gestured to the one pushed in at the table. "It’ll be more comfortable than the ground."

"The bed is big enough for two people."

"No, Pearl." I wiped the sleep from my eyes.

"Come on, Jack. I’m not going to do anything to you." She sat down next to me on the bed. "And you deserve to sleep in a bed every now and then. We can even create some type of barrier between us if that makes you more comfortable."

"And what about your parents?" I crossed my arms. “What would they have to say about that?”

She shrugged. "Well, it’s not like I’m going to ever tell them that I slept in a bed with you."

I stared at her for a minute, searching for any evil plans on her face before giving in. “Fine, but if there’s any funny business, you’re going to be sleeping on the floor with the chicken.”


	22. Reason Why

Pearl had a tendency to cling in her sleep. In the night, it didn't bother me so much. The warmth of her on my side was unfamiliar, but comforting enough. In the morning, however, the room heated up and it was no longer something enjoyable.

But that morning, Pearl wasn't as bright and cheerful as she usually was. She didn't hop up out of bed entirely too early and get ready for the day. Instead, she stayed in her nightgown and slept far into the afternoon. I awoke before her, and I usually slept far too long.

When I went to get up and out of the bed, she grabbed my arm and asked if I would stay for just a moment more. She sounded so sad, so I did.

The room was filled with the most dried out heat you could imagine. My mouth was dry, and I desperately wanted to get a drink, but I stayed like she asked. She hugged my arm close to her, and even though it was entirely too hot for that, I allowed it because she was in low spirits.

After a moment, she mumbled "I haven’t been entirely honest with you, Jack."

I blinked up at the ceiling and then looked over at her. “What do you mean?”

"I mean I've kept something from you… Something very important to me." She released my arm and sat up a bit to look at me. "The main reason I hate my mother and aunt."

"You don’t have to talk about anything you are uncomfortable with." I told her, but she shook her head.

"No, that’s the problem, Jack." Her cheeks reddened with anger and she brought her hands up to her face.

"I don’t understand."

She lowered her hands and grabbed my arm again, gripping it with more strength than I thought she had. “Allow me to explain.” She let out a controlled breath before continuing. “I am one of three children. I have another brother, a younger brother by four years. His name is Andrew. Andrew is, for lack of a better word, slow. But he is a good boy, even though he acts younger than he actually is.”

"Why haven’t you spoken about him before?"

"Because he is considered a disgrace to my family." Pearl frowned. "Not to me, I love him. He is my little brother. But my mothers were humiliated by having a child like him, and they sent him away to an asylum. My brother and I were not to ever speak of him again. It was as if Andrew was never even born."

I was beginning to understand. "That’s terrible."

"That’s not all. I took it upon myself to visit him about a little more than a year ago." She sobbed bitterly, and I didn’t know what to do. "He is crammed into a room with _seven_ other people. Some of them boys, some of them grown men, and all of them are truly awful. They’ve harmed him, both physically and emotionally. The nurses do not bathe him or take care of him at all. He rarely gets fed. When I came home, I told my mother and aunt about it, and I was punished for mentioning him."

She began to cry in earnest. “He is their son and they don’t even care about him. There is nothing I can do for him, either. I can’t even write him letters. I worry about him every day. He is just a boy. I fear for his life, if he even still has one.” Not knowing what else to do, I pulled her to me and let her cry.

“What about your father? Had he no say in this?”

“He allowed it.” She hissed in a breath. “For all the goodness in his heart, he’s weak with love for my mother and will allow her nearly anything she presses for.”

"Pearl, I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say."

"Say I don’t have to go back to them. Say I can stay with you." I sighed and pushed her away from me.

I couldn't look at her. "You know I can’t do that."

"Why not? Don’t you like me? Don’t you want to be with me, Jack?" Her hand was at my arm again.

"I can’t take you away from your parents, Pearl. Your father is a good man. He loves you. He would miss you.”

"I will deal with that myself." She pulled at my arm, trying to get me to look at her. "Say I can stay with you."

I shook my head. "I told you, I can’t do that."

"I am a grown woman, it’s not like you would be kidnapping me!"

"You should at least talk to them first.”

"You don’t understand, Jack, there is no talking to them!" I pushed her off of me, stood, and began to get dressed.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"You should get dressed too, because I’m taking you back to Blackwater right now." I told her.

"Like hell you are!" She bolted over to the door and swung it open. "You didn't listen to me at all, did you? Do you even care about me?"

I looked at her again. Her face was free of the makeup she wore during the day, and swollen from sleep and tears. Her hair, thick and dark, was in desperate need of brushing. Her nightgown hung off of her like it was made for someone else. Before, it was easy to look at her and see a woman, but in that moment she looked all of her seventeen years, and I couldn't give her what she wanted.

 "I do care, Pearl.” I told her. “And that’s why you need to try to talk to your parents instead of running away.”

"No, Jack.” She was crying again. Out of anger or desperation, I’m not sure. “If you cared about me, you’d have some ounce of sympathy for what I just told you. I can’t go back to them, I just can’t."

"My parents are  _dead_ , Pearl.” I told her, and she paused. “I wish more than anything that I could speak with them about all the problems I had, but I can’t. If you don’t talk to them about it, you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life. Just like I do.”

She stood still for a moment. She looked at me, and then at the ground. Then she closed the door and walked over, crawling back into the bed and pulling the sheets over her head.

"Come on, now. Get dressed." I nudged her through the blankets. The blankets shifted for a moment and then paused. I nudged her again.

"No. I’m not going back to Blackwater and you can’t make me."

I sighed and tried to pull the blankets back, but she held them down. “I will dress you myself if I have to.”

"I took off my nightgown. You wouldn't dare pull these blankets back unless you want to see me naked. Now leave me alone."

"Damn it, Pearl!" I rubbed my forehead. "You’re acting like a child!"

“ _Leave me alone_!” I didn't know what else to do, so I left her alone to begin my drinking a little earlier than usual.


	23. Everything is Fine

“Jack! Jack wake up!” Pearl kept shoving me until I finally sat up and pulled her off of me.

“What? What in god’s name do you want?” I tried to rub the burning sensation away from my tired eyes.

“I need some light or something, please.” She whispered, and I reluctantly stood and felt my way over to the table to find and light the oil lamp. A dull light filled the room and I sat it back on the table to walk back over and return myself to the warmth of the bed.

“What’s gotten into you?” I asked her. “It’s cold as hell and you want me to get out of the bed to light a lamp? Why are you waking me up in the middle of the night anyway?”

“I had a nightmare. I'm sorry.” She pushed her hair behind her ear. “I just need to know everything is okay.”

“Yeah. Everything is fine, you crazy girl.” I told her. “You should’ve guessed that when you woke up.”

“It was too dark to tell, that’s why I got you to light the lamp.” She crawled over and jumped off the bed, putting out the light. I felt her return and tuck herself in next to me. “I’m sorry, Jack. I know you don’t like it when I cling to you, but could I just this once? It’s cold and I’m still a bit shaken up.” I agreed with a sigh and she wrapped her arms around me. Her freezing hands made me jump and she giggled in the dark.

“Just no funny business, okay?” I turned my head towards her, even though I couldn’t see her in the dark.

“Not unless you ask nicely.” She giggled again and hugged me a bit tighter.

“That’s not funny.”

“It is _so_ funny, you’d just never admit it.”

“You know what else is funny? That I’m taking you back to your parents first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, that’s about as funny as this.” And suddenly her freezing cold feet were pressed against my legs, causing me to curse loudly and her to break into fits of laughter.

It seems I can never get any sleep with her around.


	24. Poetry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the chapter I struggled with. I don't know how to incorporate the letters in the story beyond the mention of them.
> 
> It's just important to know that the letters are basically asks received at the blog, from mostly anonymous users, to Jack. He would answer them. Around the time this entry was originally published (April 1st 2012) most of them were asking Jack about Pearl.

She was furiously scribbling in a small leather notebook when I entered the room. When she saw me, she quickly snapped it shut and smiled at me.

“Enjoy your bath?” She asked. “You smell much better, I can tell already.”

“What were you doing?”

“I write poetry sometimes.” She said, standing up to face me. “Your hair is still wet. Do you need help drying it?” She reached up to touch my hair and I swatted her hand away.

“I can do it myself. Anyway, how come I didn’t know this before?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you just haven’t been paying attention.”

“I always pay attention." I insisted. "So, poetry, huh? Can I read some?”

“No.” She crossed her arms. “That’s why I kind of hid it from you before. I knew you would be nosy.”

“I am not nosy. Besides, what’s hidden in there that you don’t want me to see?”

“I write about what I feel, stupid. So most of what I’ve been writing lately has been about you.” Her face reddened as she said it. With anger or embarrassment, I’m not sure. “I don’t know if I want you reading that yet.”

Part of me was terrified, and the other part was suddenly extremely interested. I swallowed hard. “What if I want to know?”

“Well that would involve an exchange, Jack.” She smiled sweetly. “You tell me what you say about me in your mysterious letters, and I’ll read you the poems.”

“No way.” I said, shaking my head. “Hell no.”

“That’s just fine. I guess these poems will stay my secret. And don’t get any funny ideas about reading it behind my back,” She reached down into the front of her nightgown and tucked the small book away someplace unseen. “That is, unless you’re willing to do anything to get it.” And at that, she hopped into the bed and tucked herself in. There was no room for me to say anything.

So I dragged myself into the bed beside her after putting out the lamps that lit the room. I laid there, unable to sleep. I admit, I’ve always liked intelligent women, and Pearl was the most intelligent woman I’ve ever met. She manipulated her way into getting what she wanted, even with me. I found this both incredibly attractive and incredibly annoying. There was no getting past that girl. This book was just a new game for her.

I realized that she had probably planned that entire situation. She had known me a little more than a month and she already had me pretty much figured out. Knowing this, I was still eaten up with curiosity about that book, and she knew it. She wasn’t sleeping either. She was waiting for me to say or do something. I could tell this by the way she wasn’t hanging off of me, or begging me to kiss her, or pressing her face against my arm and sleeping contently.

I reached out and touched her back. I felt warmth radiate through the thin material of her nightgown and she shifted herself, turning to face me. I pulled my hand away and stared in her direction through the darkness.

“What if I told you just one thing?” I asked her, keeping my voice hushed for no real reason except to fit the darkness of the room. “What then?”

“I will give you one line from a poem.” She whispered back. “Don’t worry, it will be a heartfelt one.”

I sighed. That was better than nothing. Perhaps it would be enough for me tonight. “I write that I care for you, and that I think you’re beautiful.” The words were much easier to say when writing them to complete strangers. Saying them to her was like pulling teeth. I suddenly wished it weren’t so dark, so I could at least see her face.

She was quiet for a moment. ”Thank you, Jack. I think the most accurate line to describe the way I’ve felt about you would be _Pour lui, je me sens la douleur exquise_.”

”That’s not fair, Pearl. You know I can't understand that.”

”I didn’t know how to describe it in English. It would’ve taken far too many words and wouldn’t have had the same meaning.”

”Try to translate it, then. As best as you can.”

”For him, I feel… and _la douleur exquise_ would take far too much to explain. One day, I’ll try to explain.”

”Why can’t you explain now?” And then she kissed me. So I let her, and after a moment I pulled away. She didn’t say anything, and simply turned away from me.

So I lay there again, unable to sleep, wondering whatthe things she said could possibly mean.


	25. Return

When I woke up, she was fully dressed and brushing her hair. Her violin was set neatly on the table and her chicken was pecking the floor. So I dressed myself in silence.

“I’m ready to go home now.” She said when I finished. This caught me by surprise.

“Uh, really?” I asked her. “What changed your mind?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’m just ready.” She stood and faced me. “Unless you want me to stay here with you.”

“No, it’s okay. You need to go back to your family.”

“Well, it’s settled then.” She scooped the chicken up in one hand and grabbed her violin with the other. “We’ll take the stagecoach outside town. I’ll pay for it.”

And so we did. I sat across from her and had a cigarette while she looked uncomfortable in the heat of the desert. We didn’t say much, which was strange. I got the impression she wasn’t feeling well, and when I asked her about it she said she was fine. I didn’t think that was the entire truth but I didn’t press her about it. I assumed she was nervous about going back to her parents after being away for so long.

So I had another cigarette, and she closed her eyes but didn’t sleep, and after an hour or two we arrived in Blackwater. She collected her things, which I offered to hold for her but she declined, and we made our way to her house. She was obviously nervous by this point, and stuck as close to me as possible.

“I need to go speak to them myself, Jack.” She said as her home came into view. “But I’d like for you to wait on the porch for me, if you don’t mind. But if you don’t want to, you can leave.”

“Why would I leave?”

She looked away. “I don’t know.” She set the chicken down and it continued to follow her on foot. “Just you can if you want to.”

“I’ll stay.”

“Fine.”

And then we were at her house. She took a shaky breath and entered without knocking, leaving the chicken to explore outside. I sat on the steps and had yet another cigarette. That’s when the shouting began. I couldn’t make out anything that was said, but I knew it was Pearl and her mothers. Every now and then I heard a man’s voice, Pearl’s father, but he didn’t shout.

This continued on for a while, and I waited outside like I said I would. Finally, the shouting died down and Pearl came outside to see me again. She was visibly upset, and I stood to greet her.

“Thank you for waiting, Jack.” She said. “Um, my father says that if we continue our friendship, he would like to speak to you one of these days. Not now, he’s busy now, but perhaps next time you visit.”

“That’s fine.”

“But for now, I think it would be best if you left.”

“Really?”

“I’m sure this isn’t the last my mothers have to say, and I don’t want you to get caught in the crossfire of it.”

“Well, alright.” I scratched my head. “If you think that’s for the best.”

And then we stood and faced each other for a moment. I didn’t know whether to hug her goodbye or what, so we simply stood there like idiots for a few moments before she reached her hand out to shake mine. At that, she turned and went inside, and I went back to my hotel room above the Blackwater Saloon.


	26. A Talk with Mr. Ramsey

“I knew you’d be coming around sometime today.” Phillip Ramsey greeted me as I walked up to the home that the majority of the Ramseys were living in. He was sitting on a wooden chair on the porch, enjoying a cigar and the cool afternoon after the sun had gone down. His hair was coal black, and his stomach hung over and rested on his legs. The man was a lawyer and a politician, and according to Pearl he was born for lying. Still, he was nothing but polite and almost humble each time I saw him. I respected him almost as much as I respect my own father.

“Yes, sir.” I said, stepping up a bit closer to the porch. “I’ve been around your daughter a lot lately, and it’s just kind of strange to be away from her.” He nodded and exhaled the smoke from his cigar, looking out on the seemingly endless plains.

“Come and sit down with me, boy.” He said, gesturing to the chair next to him. His voice was loud, and thick with an accent that almost sounded french. From what I understood, French was his first language, and all of his children knew how to speak or at least understand it. “No need to be scared. I’m not gonna hurt you. I just want to talk about some things.”

And so I sat down in the chair next to him. He offered me a cigar but I declined out of nervousness. We sat in the silence of the lukewarm night and he finished his cigar only to light up another one. And as I sat there with him, I realized that he was a lot like my own father. My father made his life with an unhonest profession, but deep down he was a good man. He did what he felt he had to do. I voiced this to Mr. Ramsey and he laughed, long and loud.

“I hear so many good things about your father, so I’m flattered to be compared to him.” He laughed again, and choked on his own smoke. “But, like your father, or at least like what I’ve heard about him, I did not choose my own profession. It was more of something I fell into. From what I understand, your father fell into crime because he was raised around it. I fell into being a lawyer and a politician because that’s what my father was, and his father before him.”

I nodded solemnly, and he continued. “I realize that I do not have what I could call an ideal job. Sometimes, I have to lie to people. Sometimes, I have to lie for people. Sometimes, I even have to defend someone that I know is wrong.” He shook his head. “I do it because it is my job, and because I know nothing else. I have three children, a wife, and a sister-in-law to provide for. I cannot afford to play a hero.”

“I understand, sir.”

“But you, kid, you have your whole life ahead of you.” He elbowed me gently. “You could do anything you damn well pleased if you set your mind to it. I know because I see it in your face. You’ve got determination, and that’s the best thing to have in the world. You are young and strong and you’ve got nothing holding you down.”

He took another drag of his cigar. “My daughter, on the other hand, has a lot of things she has to overcome. She is a woman, and that automatically puts a staple on the girl. I do not care, the girl could run for president if she sought to do so, but it’s not me that’s the problem. The rest of the world just look at her and they see a pretty face and a nasty attitude. To a lot of people, that automatically makes her trash. Like a mule that won’t work, like a horse you can’t ride.”

“Her mother and aunt are only trying to help her. They are only harsh because they don’t understand. It’s like they are speaking two different languages. My wife thinks the girl needs a husband who will placate her, but I think she needs a husband who understands her. My wife thinks she needs to be punished, but I think she just needs to be shown another way of things.”

“My wife does not have a temper, I assure you. She only worries for her daughter. But my wife tends to run away from things she does not understand. She did not understand our eldest son’s love for our Chinese maid, so she sent him away and fired the maid. She did not understand our youngest son’s need for special attention, so she sent him away too. And now she does not understand why our only daughter wants to live with some sort of wild abandon.”

“So, my wife brings home some men for my daughter to meet. They are all terribly boring, and they sweat when I look at them, and they look at my daughter the same way they look at everyone else. They are like crackers with no salt. Boring, and difficult to take. Then my daughter brings you home. She likes you. You bring a new, kind of, life to her. You may not talk much, but when you do you seem to have something good to say. You talk to me honestly, and you look at my daughter like you have known her for a thousand years.”

“Pardon me, sir, but I don’t really understand what you’re getting at here.”

“Well then I just cut to the chase, I want you to marry my daughter.”

My throat went dry and I coughed for a moment. “I don’t know if I can do that, sir.”

He laughed again, long and loud, and he slapped his knee while he was at it. “Another thing to like about you. Marriage is not something to take so lightly. If you would’ve said yes right away, I might have changed my mind. But you are my ideal son-in-law, because you remind me of my eldest son a bit. I think if you met him, you would be great friends. Maybe if there were a wedding, he could come down to visit.”

“Sir, no offense, but I’ve known your daughter a little over a month and you want us to get married? Don’t you think that’s a little impractical?”

“My daughter is impractical. She is not a realist. She does not measure life by days or months. She measures life by how beautiful the stars are and how she feels about things. It’s beautiful to hear her speak about things, but it can hurt her more than you possibly imagine. She’s had boyfriends before, but she’s never kept them long. Maybe a week at most. You’ve stayed around the longest, and you are a, uh, unique kind of person.”

I shook my head. “I don’t really know if I can do that.”

“You take all the time to think about it that you need. I’m not trying to scare you or push you into anything, kid. Like I said before, marriage is not a something to take so lightly, and I will not be angry at you if you say no. I just hope you would say no for the right reasons, as well as I hope you would say yes for the right reasons.”

“That’s a lot to think about, sir. I’m only 20 years old.”

“Well, how old were your parents when they got married?”

“My father was 35, and my mother was 31.”

“Really? And how old were they when you were born?”

“Uh, my mother was 18, and my father was 22, I think.”

“Well, I guess I shouldn’t be all that surprised. I’m sure it’s difficult to get a marriage license when you’re running from the law, no offense. So tell me, what reasons do you have for not wanting to marry my daughter?”

“Well, I dunno if I want to talk about this, sir.”

“Come on, it’s not like anything that’s said here is going to be repeated. You have my word.”

“Well, I haven’t really known her that long, and I don’t even know how I feel about her.”

“Well, that’s easy enough to figure out. What would be your reaction if she died tomorrow? If this house burned to the ground with her inside of it, how would you take that?”

“Well, I would be sad-”

“Sad how? Would you cry about it once and never again? How long would you be sad?”

“It would be really difficult, and I would probably think about it for the rest of my life.”

“And if tomorrow she had to marry some man she absolutely hated, and he beat her every day and made her feel like trash, what would you do then?”

“Well I don't know, I-”

“Come on, son. This is about quick answers. Don’t think about what you’re saying, just say what you feel. Would you just leave it alone because she would be married? What would you do?”

“I would still come around, I would have to.”

“And what if you saw him strike her?”

“I would strike him.”

“There we go. And why would you have to still come around, even if she were married? Because you care about her. You want to know what I think?”

“Sure.”

“I think she loves you far more than you love her at this point. But I do think that you love her, just that you realize you’ve only known her for so long. That’s where you two are different, kid. You think about what’s real. You think about the real problems, while my daughter just runs with whatever she has. That’s why I think that she needs you. I think you have the ability to bring her back to reality without making it all crash down on her head.”

I swallowed hard. “That’s a lot of pressure, sir.”

“Yes, well, I’m just being honest with you. It’s still up to you, and if you ever want to talk about something, I am here to discuss it with you. You can go now, if you’d like. I’m done bugging you.”

“Can I see Pearl before I go?” I asked. He smiled and flicked the ashes off of the end of his cigar, which was almost gone at this point.

“Of course you can.”


	27. Beecher's Hope

****I always felt a bit uncomfortable being in Pearl’s room. It wasn’t because of her room being so personal, or because it was where she slept or anything like that. It was because everything was always set so neatly and perfectly around. It was how she was constantly smoothing down the blankets on her bed, even when she was sitting on it. I was afraid I would mess it up, so I usually stood around and never touched anything until she invited me to.

So of course, when I went upstairs to her bedroom, she was arranging things. She smiled and greeted me, and continued to arrange the items on her dresser in a perfect geometric pattern.

“So, Pearl, uh…” I swallowed hard. “I’d like to take you somewhere, if that’s alright with you.”

“Ooh, how interesting.” She immediately abandoned her cleaning to pull on a coat. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere important.” I swallowed again, trying to bring moisture to my mouth, which was extremely dry. “You’ll know when we get there.”

“So it’s like a surprise.” She grinned and followed me downstairs and out the door. “How exciting.”

So I led her off of the porch with a curt nod to her father, who nodded politely back, and I helped her onto my horse before climbing on myself. Our destination wasn’t very far away, so I let my horse trot slowly on the path there. I knew she would enjoy the cloudless sky and the night of the new moon.

“You know there is a new moon tonight, don’t you?” I asked her.

“Yes, of course.” She laughed. “How couldn’t I notice when there is no bright moon shining down on us? It’s so dark when there are only stars to light our way. Look, I bet that is Mars right there.” She pointed to the brightest star in the sky.

“Isn’t that the north star?”

“I don’t know. It’s a bright light in the sky.” She shrugged and pressed her face against my back. “I wonder what other planets are like. I hope they are beautiful.”

“This planet is beautiful, why wouldn’t another one be?”

“You’re right, Jack.” She yawned and she didn’t say much more. Finally we reached the archway and fence that surrounded Beecher’s Hope. “Oh, where is this? I’ve never been here before.”

I didn’t say anything as we approached the house and I helped her down from her horse. I had made sure the house was lit up and the fireplaces were blazing before I even considered bringing her there. I walked up the porch and opened the door for her, and she silently went inside. She looked around and suddenly I was aware of how dusty the place was. It had been years since it had been properly cleaned, and I was ashamed, but she didn’t comment on it.

She glanced into what used to be my room, and then back at me, and then back into the room before stepping into it. She examined the paintings on the walls and the crumpled up papers that lay on my desk. She even noticed the traces of white hair on the end of my bed from Rufus long ago.

She then glanced into Uncle’s room across from mine. There was still a case of beer and a pouch of chewing tobacco underneath his bed. She examined the dining room, and the kitchen. She glanced around the couches and the piano, and examined my parents’ idea of decorating. Not a word was said the entire time.

Then she was in front of the door to my parents’ room. She turned the doorknob as if it were made of glass and glanced inside. It looked the same as it had years ago. My parents’ bed was still made and, although it was a bit dusty, it looked as if they could still walk in any moment. Pearl noticed a small picture sitting on the dresser. It was old and faded, but you could still make out two people standing together.

“You look like your father.” Pearl said finally. “And your mother too. They are definitely your parents.”

“Yeah.” I replied, not knowing what else to say. When she was finished exploring, I took her back to the couch and we sat down. She was silent again. She wasn’t a stupid girl, she knew I had something to say.

“So, uh, my father was an orphan. His mother was a prostitute and she died when he was born. He spent a few years with his father, but he died too, and my Pa was sent to an orphanage. He met my Ma there. No one ever adopted him or anything, and so he stayed there until he was too old and they got him to leave. He took my Ma with him because they were friends, and they went with a man who promised to take care of them.” I sighed, rubbing my forehead. “So they were in a gang together. My Ma and Pa were. And my Ma was the whore for the whole gang. And they spent forever in that gang together, but even though my Ma was a whore, she only loved my Pa and my Pa only loved her. And then I happened.”

“Jack, you don’t have to-”

“No, let me finish.” I sighed. “I was with the gang too, even though I was just a kid. You can’t help it when you’re raised around that stuff. You think it’s okay, even when you know deep down that it isn’t. And then my Pa got hurt one day and they left him to die. My Ma was so mad she could’ve spit fire, and my Pa and her decided that enough was enough, and they took me and they left. And for a while, we lived on the street, and then my Pa was made a good deal on this land here, cause the fellow who built the house died and didn’t have anybody to give it to.”

“So we moved in, and we started a ranch, and my Pa hired an old friend, Uncle, to help us. By that time my Ma was pregnant again and everything was okay. But something went wrong when she had my sister. The baby came out and she didn’t breathe, and she wouldn’t breathe, and she was cold and dead, and my mother screamed like I’ve never heard a woman scream in my entire life.” I paused. “And my Pa took the baby and wrapped her up in a blanket and buried her right away. He didn’t even tell us where, because my Ma was so sick over it that he was afraid she would go and dig the baby up.”

“And after a while, my Ma got better, and we never talked about it again. And for a while, things were okay. And then one day, I went into the house cause I heard Ma screaming again, and there was a bunch of police officers there. They took me and my mother and they locked us away. I don’t know where. We were locked away for months upon months and we didn’t know how my Pa was. All we knew was that he had to go and find all the men from his old gang before we could see him again.”

“And then one day we were sent home, and my Pa came home. He had killed all the men from his gang just like he was asked, and we were allowed to go back to normal. And everything was okay again. He wasn’t home for a week before an entire army swarmed Beecher’s Hope, this property right here, and they killed Uncle, and they killed my dog, and they killed my father.”

“It was horrible. It was just my Ma and I here. I tried so hard to support us, but I was just a boy and I was alone. All the cattle either died or were stolen. The horses ran off. The chickens all died too. My Ma got sick and we didn’t have any money for a doctor. I tried to get her medicine but it cost so much that we just couldn’t afford it. She got sicker and sicker, and finally she died in her bed. I buried her out behind the barn, next to my Pa and Uncle, and Rufus too.”

“And I was alone, and I was angry about it. There was no blood in my body, only rage pumping through my heart, and I read in the newspaper about a man named Edgar Ross who was in charge of bringing my father to justice. So I got all of my father’s guns and I set out to find him. I went all the way to Mexico and I found him. I spoke to him, and I had a duel with him, and I killed him. And after that, there was no anger. There was only loneliness, because I guess the part of me that was still a child thought that if I killed Edgar Ross, my family would come back. Well, they didn’t. It’s been almost a year since my mother died, and they aren’t back, and they aren’t coming back.”

When I turned to look at her, she was looking back at me. Her eyes weren’t wet with tears, and I was thankful for that. She reached forward and embraced me. Her hands pressed firmly against my back, and her head tucked into my shoulder, and it was the most comforting gesture I had received in a very long time. So I wrapped my arms around her and held her back, and we sat there like that for a moment before respectively pulling away.

“I’m okay.” I told her, and myself. And she smiled at me, and in her smile was everything I could’ve possibly hoped for. There was no pity, or anger, or resentment. There was only kind sympathy, and admiration, and affection.

“You’re alright.” She cupped my face in her hands. “Jack, you’re alright.” And so I did what I thought was right and I kissed her.


End file.
